


The Canopy's Shade

by VeloxVoid



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: Descent into Madness, Fear, Forests, Gen, Light and shadow, Majora's Mask, Prompt Fic, Soul-Searching, minor hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: The Skull Kid has just stolen Majora's Mask, and feels its pure power overwhelm him. Just for a split second, however, he contemplates whether he is doing the right thing.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	The Canopy's Shade

**Author's Note:**

> This was my piece for the Faces of Evil zine, volume 4! The prompt was "Light vs. Shadow", and thus I tried to incorporate both :)
> 
> You can find this free digital zine here: https://facesofevilzine.itch.io/volume-4-light-vs-shadow

This forest was dark.

Its air was chilly. The breeze whistling through the dense trunks to rustle the trees’ leaves was bitingly cold, sending shudders across the skin of the Skull Kid.

The atmosphere all around him smelled musty – of age-old evergreens, damp, dewy grass, and muddy earth that sprouted moss and mushrooms and mildew. A mist shrouded the air, casting a haze over the scene as the Skull Kid looked around himself. He saw small animals scurrying to their underground homes, birds taking wing from the lower branches.

And he was lost.

The Skull Kid looked down at the mask in his hands - a beautiful creation, with fantastic colours, and patterns so intricate he had to fight to take his eyes away.

But, those fascinating colours were obscured. The mist and the darkness around him combined to make the mask appear murky, and the young imp felt a feeling in his chest that was completely unfamiliar.

Was this… sadness? Hopelessness? An ache in his core seemed to swirl inside him, as though weighing him down physically, tying him to the damp dirt that his feet sunk into.

He had stolen the mask - had taken it by deceit, and trickery, and violence. He had manipulated and robbed, and left the salesman sobbing on the floor as he'd dived back into the trees - into the safety of this darkness, with all of its shadows and mist.

But... why? He could not help asking himself as he looked around, the creeping cold in his chest spreading to his every fingertip. Why had he caused harm, and mischief, and upset? Why had he taken up these habits as of late? Was it out of spite, or anger, after being abandoned by his friends so long ago?

He shook his head. He did not want to think about that. Even so, he could not push the sadness out of his heart. At long last, it seemed the Skull Kid's pent up sadness and anger and frustration had finally risen to the surface. He felt his eyes grow hot, and his skin begin to prickle, and before he knew it, he was fighting off tears; such a sensation he had not felt in many, many years.

Clinging to the mask as if for dear life, the Skull Kid ran. He shot through the trees, feeling small branches whip against his skin and roots underfoot threaten to trip him. Yet still, he darted past trunks and leapt over logs, startling every animal in the vicinity to hurry to safety. His heart pounded, his muscles ached, and chains of sadness wrapped around his lungs - choking him and binding him and making his movements slow. The Skull Kid needed to get away. Needed to be free.

A huge tree emerged through the mist before him, and he jumped as far as his legs would take him. Reaching out his fingers, he clung onto the base of the tree, and began to climb.

Despite the mask remaining in one hand, the Skull Kid clambered deftly upwards, fingernails scratching against the bark as his palms wrapped around smaller branches. He continued to climb, feeling air rush past his ears and almost lift his hat from atop his head, but still he continued onwards - upwards. Light began to filter through the mist and the murk, until eventually the trunk beneath him looked brown and green - no longer mottled by the blacks and greys of the mist’s swirling tendrils.

The Skull Kid was assaulted by leaves - by wide, verdant fronds brushing against his skin and snagging against his clothes. His face broke through the canopy, the sun blinded him, and the imp forced his eyes shut as daylight hit his skin.

At last. At long, long last, he was seeing light again. It felt like an age since the warmth of the sun had touched him last, his skin beginning to prickle as if getting used to the sensation once more.

He still held the mask in his hands. It sat gently in his palms, and as the Skull Kid finally saw it in all of its glory, he allowed a small gasp to catch in his throat.

It was bright. Purple married scarlet in such an odd way; the Skull Kid had never expected those hues to complement one another, yet they looked positively enchanting, blending into one another beneath a gradient of yellow and orange in a way that was almost hypnotising.

But, the eyes unnerved him. They stared, unblinking - almost judgmental. Challenging. _Daring._ They taunted the Skull Kid, spurring him onwards. He was _right_ to have stolen it, and to have caused fear and pain in the process. He could wreak even more havoc with it, and show Termina what it deserved.

But the sun burned bright above him, and a soft, warm breeze kissed his face. He looked up, at the boundless blue of the sky, clouds drifting lazily across it like fish meandering through a creek’s crawling waters. It felt calming, slowing his pulse and his ragged breathing until he felt at peace. The treetops stretched below him for miles, with small civilisations visible in the distance. Perhaps this world _could_ be gentle, and welcoming--

 _No,_ the mask in his hands seemed to whisper. And the image of the Skull Kid’s friends flashed beneath his eyelids, abandoning him once more as they had so many times in his nightmares, and in reality.

This world was cruel.

The day was beautiful, bathing the Skull Kid in amber light and warming through his skin deep down inside. His heart sang beneath the sun, but the hard wood of the mask was cold. Chilly, like the forest, and begging him to return to the depths from which he came. The dank and lonely forest he deserved to be in.

And, seemingly almost as soon as he’d broken through the canopy, the Skull Kid was descending again. His climb down was slower; long gone were his panic and fear and desperation to be free - now, it seemed as though he were being pulled back down by heavy iron shackles.

 _I don’t want to leave,_ he almost sobbed out into the oppressive quiet of the forest. But, he did not. Silently, he did as he deserved, and gripped tightly onto the gnarled bark of the trunk as he made his descent.

The smell flooded his nostrils once more. No more fresh, crisp summer’s air. The rot and damp streamed through his sinuses and enveloped him in cold once more. Colour was leached from the surroundings, mist fogged his vision, and the Skull Kid was immersed in darkness once more.

_Where he belonged._

Footsteps from somewhere in the distance made his ears prick, however. Soft, and sure-footed; more than two. An animal? He padded through the underbrush, wet leaves and soft earth absorbing his footsteps, until he saw them.

A horse, as he’d suspected, with fur glinting chestnut beneath the dregs of light filtering through the canopy’s shade. Yet, upon its back sat a child, eyes fixed forwards as they traversed the woodland.

Tatl and Tael - the two Fairies who had found him upon his travels - were by the imp’s side in no time, bickering.

“ _Must_ you run away like that?”

“We almost couldn’t catch up with you--!”

But, they quickly realised that the Skull Kid’s attention was elsewhere. Their ethereal glowing bodies turned in the direction he was staring, towards the horse, and the child upon its back whose pockets seemed to brim with valuables.

_Wreak havoc upon Termina._

The Skull Kid felt a grin spread across his face, and he held up the mask once more. Despite shadows shrouding it, it was beautiful. And he placed his face into the chilly wood, becoming one with Majora.

“Let’s get ‘em,” he giggled.


End file.
